


Drift

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [499]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, he's just so easy to whump, i swear i have nothing against alan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-25 21:14:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12541360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: Anonymous askedI am now convinced of your evil. I bow down to you. Its just... I didn't expect you to kill him. Absolutely beautiful. May I dare request Alan, Gordon, and Drowning? I still love you and your work... *chinhands*





	Drift

Water is Gordon’s element, but it is not his friend.

Water is mercurial and callous, a true force of nature in every sense of the world.  It can topple cities with a wave, wear away continents with gentle lapping, crush anything humans care to make with dispassionate ease.

It can carry you along or buffet you back with each turn of the tides.

Water is Gordon’s element.  It isn’t Alan’s.

The depth has turned everything shades of blue, but if Gordon squints, he can just make out the falling speck of the blue of skies and not seas.  Unlike Gordon’s furiously moving limbs, Alan’s are slack and limp, drifting slightly with the eddies in the currents.

EOS was reading out Alan’s suit’s stats in a steady, even cadence, matched to the rhythm of Gordon’s strokes.  John had tagged her in the second he realized his baby brother wasn’t responding.

Gordon has no-one else to turn to.  So he swims, chest burning and arms screaming as he digs deep, using every last trick to find the last burst of speed to get to Alan before he falls below their grasp.

One last push and Gordon latches onto Alan’s wrist, arresting his downward fall.  The arm in his grip is slack, and Gordon latches on like a squid, arms and legs wrapping around Alan.  His helmet plate is cracked and the seal is barely holding.  Already Gordon can see the water trickling in to pool around Alan’s head, coming almost to his bottom lip despite Gordon’s carefully angled hold.

Coming up was going to hurt like a  _bitch_ , the nitrogen squeezed into their joints expanding as they rose.  Gordon’s had the bends before, and he’s not looking forward to it again.  But Alan doesn’t have  _time_  for a steady descent.

“Gordon, Thunderbird Two has arrived above your location.  Sending down the cable.”  EOS’ voice is like an anchor in his ear, and he breathes out, too grateful to not have to think, to plan, to organise.  He focuses on the limp bundle in his arms, manoeuvring him gently to tether him to the cable, letting the water cushion and soften every movement.

Gordon rests his faceplate against Alan’s and wishes he could breathe his own air through the glass as they rise back up into the world of colour and light.


End file.
